Bombshell Boss

  Bombshell Boss

  Callie Cole

  Bombshell Boss© 2020 by Callie Cole

  All Rights Reserved.

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Cover Design: Sarah Kil Creative Studio

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Callie Cole

  Chapter One

  Jordan

  I’ve heard the rumor before that I got this job because I’m Andrew Mackenzie’s daughter. I don’t mind what they say because if not that, they’d say I slept my way to the top. That’s what happens when you’re a woman and one of the top executives in your field. Never mind that I’ve worked my ass off all these years to get here. Where’s the gossip in that?

  I don’t get more than five minutes to sit back on my office sofa before my assistant, Monica, pokes her head in my office.

  “I’m sorry to bother you this late, Ms. Mackenzie, but Mr. Mackenzie wants to see you in his office.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”

  What the hell could he want at this hour?

  I tuck my blouse into my skirt and put my shoes back on.

  Monica stops me as I leave my office.

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, thanks, Monica. Have a good night.”

  The only office light on this floor, other than my own, is my father’s. I can’t remember one time when he left the office before eight o’clock. Always competitive, I never leave before he does.

  His door is open.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Jordan, yes, come in. I wanted to let you know that Noah Andresen will move from Amsterdam to Boston. He’s been wanting to come back to the East Coast for a long time, and this seems to be the most appropriate time for everyone concerned. It means he’ll be reporting to you. I thought you should know that he’ll be arriving tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? You’re telling me this now? Why haven’t I been kept in the loop on this before now?”

  “I’m sorry, I should have, but my hands were tied on this. Noah asked me not to say anything to you until it was a done deal. I can only assume his motives. Why do you think he didn’t want you to know?”

  I look down at my feet, unable to look him in the eye.

  “I’m too old to feel embarrassed, Dad. It’s no secret that Noah and I dated for a while last year. It was brief and didn’t mean anything, at least from my point of view.”

  “You could do worse.”

  I’m stunned. My own father thinks I don’t deserve better.

  “Nice, Dad.”

  “You know what I mean, Jordan. Noah is a catch. Your mother and I like Noah a lot, and his family is, well...”

  “Wealthy?”

  My father smiles as if he thinks I’m being flip. I’m not. I know what my father wants. I’m just not willing to give it to him.

  “Fine. I’m sure we’ll work it out.”

  “Great. He’ll take Warren’s old office.”

  “That office is bigger than mine. Am I being pushed out?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a friendly gesture. I want to keep him happy. If a big office does that, then so be it.”

  I start to walk away but stop when he calls out to me.

  “Jordan. Be discrete, will you? I mean, I like Noah, but keep your private life outside the office.”

  I want to adamantly deny any interest in Noah Andresen, but I can’t be bothered to try to defend myself to a man who wouldn’t believe me, anyway. For the first time, I don’t give a damn that my father is still in his office. I can’t wait to get the hell out of the building and feel the cool night air on my face.

  Chapter Two

  Julian

  Lifting free weights is the only time I get to focus on something besides work. The long hours have me moving from dawn to dusk, so taking an hour out of my day to pump iron keeps me sane.

  I’ve got three auto body shops in downtown Boston. I started from scratch working at my uncle’s garage when I was a kid. I guess you could say I learned everything I know about cars from him. That, and the fact that my neighborhood friends were always up for the challenge of stealing cars. I remember my friend Johnny always said that you have to understand how a car operates before you steal it. I guess he was right about that part anyway.

  I continued to learn about cars, but I had to stop stealing them. Spending a couple of nights in jail cured my thinking that there was anything romantic about living life as a criminal. My uncle bailed me out, of course. Last I heard, Johnny didn’t fare as well as me. He’s locked up in some penitentiary down in Texas. I think he quickly graduated from stealing cars to robbing banks. Talented kid, that Johnny.

  I had my fair share of troubles growing up, and it took my uncle’s love and patience to help turn my life around. I’m proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish, but I couldn’t have done it without him. My uncle raised me when my parents died, one year apart. They both had cancer. He pancreatic and she breast.

  My father died first. I will never forget the panic I felt when my mother told me about her cancer. I was only twelve years old, and even though I didn’t understand all the details about her sickness, the minute she uttered the word cancer, I was terrified. My father’s death the year before showed me everything I needed to know about it. I knew she was going to die, and I worried what would become of me when she did.

  Shortly after our conversation, my mother invited her brother Bill to come for dinner. I could hear them talking downstairs, so I quietly walked down the stairs, hiding so they couldn’t see me.

  “You’re the only person I can think of, Billy. You have to take him. I don’t want him going to live with strangers.”

  I remember taking my uncle’s hand at the funeral. As soon as the prayers were done and everyone started to leave the cemetery, Uncle Bill took my hand, and I followed him home.

  Uncle Bill died two years ago, and I miss him every day.

  With only a high school education, I’ve managed to build two businesses that bring in significant profit. But more than that, I love what I do. I’ve got an excellent reputation and constant five-star reviews online.

  Now, I’m ready to expand, so I’ve purchased a fleet of trucks and several guys that haul products around the country. I need more capital, though, if I want to take things to the next level, so I have a meeting with some investors this week. If all goes well, I’ll be a millionaire before long.

  Wiping the sweat from the back of my neck, I look at the clock. It’s early enough to head out and get a bite to eat. I could really go for something gourmet. Once showered, I’m able to get a table at my favorite restaurant. I eat alone most nights, and it doesn’t bother me, but when I’m at a fancy establishment like this one, I wish I had someone in my life to share it with.

  After dinner, I walk back to my apartment, taking my time. I stroll near Boston Harbor and find a bench in front of a massive yacht.

 
; Only a matter of time and I’ll have my own boat. Maybe not as big, but big enough.

  I look up at the Mackenzie Hale offices of Rowes Wharf and see a light where Jordan’s office is. She is still there. Still working all hours to make Daddy proud.

  Maybe you don’t have a daddy to impress, but aren’t you doing the same thing, Julian? Aren’t you trying to prove something?

  Looking away from her window, I know the truth. I have to admit I’ve been trying to prove myself to her. Everything I’ve done in the last three years has been with her in mind. I’ve always known I’d come back to her but not until I was able to make a success of my life. Is now the right time? Maybe after my meeting, maybe then I can go to her. What we had can’t ever end. I know that, but does she? Will she ever be willing to open her heart to me again?

  Chapter Three

  Jordan

  I can see Noah Andresen from my office. There is something irritatingly handsome about him. He’s arrogant for sure, but what I can’t stand about him is the way he works half as hard as anyone else in this firm but still manages to get a massive salary.

  It pisses me off that he thinks because we had a few dates, he’s somehow entitled to get away with so much. I’m sure that’s why he didn’t want me to know he was coming here until it was too late to do anything about it. I just wish he wasn’t such a distraction for the women on my team. He’s been here all of thirty minutes and he’s already charmed half my staff.

  Noah knocks on my partially-opened door.

  “Good morning, Jordan. May I come in?”

  “Yes, come in, Noah. Have a seat.”

  Noah is wearing an expensive suit that cost what my assistant makes in a year.

  “Welcome back to Boston. How are you settling in? I assume you’ve found an apartment in the city?”

  “Let’s cut the small talk, Jordan. You don’t want me here. We both know that. The question is, how are you going to feel with me being so close?”

  There is an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. I get the implication.

  “It’s true, I wasn’t aware that you were transferring here until last night. I’m not thrilled about it, to be honest.”

  “Of course you’re not. I can understand that. After all, we didn’t exactly have a proper goodbye before I left for Amsterdam.”

  “A proper goodbye?”

  “You know what I mean, Jordan. We should have had a more intimate farewell after all we meant to each other.”

  “Noah, it seems you and I have differing opinions about what kind of relationship we had. We didn’t have a relationship at all. We had a few dates, that’s all. When they transferred you to Amsterdam, I was happy to see you go, frankly. I thought you would be better suited for the position there.”

  “Come on, Jordan. Happy to see me go? Don’t you think that was a cover so no one in the company knew about your feelings for me? You probably told yourself it was for the good of the company, but I know you were sad and probably hurt about it.”

  “Noah, I’m not going to spend my morning arguing about this. Whatever you think we had last year, get over it. It’s ancient history. You are here now, and might I add, you work for me. If you think you’re going to sit on your ass and do nothing but show off your expensive suits, you’re wrong.”

  Noah stands and walks around my desk, sitting on it.

  “You would do well to remember how much your parents love me. Now that I’m back in town, I should probably give your mother a call. I’ll have to pay her a visit soon. I’m sure she’d love to see me.”

  Noah smiles and walks toward the door. “I understand there is a staff meeting in an hour. I’ll see you in the conference room.”

  My contempt for this guy is growing by the minute, and I can’t stand that I have to deal with his shit every day. I’ve got a major presentation in the morning, and I can’t afford to focus on anything else.

  I’ll deal with Noah in my time, but right now, he’s like an annoying little gnat flying around the office. After tomorrow, I’ll have to find a way to swat that little shit, even if he’s the apple of my father’s eye.

  Chapter Four

  Jordan

  “Fuck. Do not do this to me. Not today.”

  Freaking out, I scrub at the stain on my skirt. I’ve got exactly ten minutes before I give the biggest presentation of my career. I’ve worked so hard to get here, I’m not going to let spilled coffee ruin this moment.

  The paper towel falls apart and leaves a small amount of white dust on the dark blue. I grab another and try to undo the mess the first towel has left. Adding more water than soap, I continue to rub.

  “Damn. I really don’t need this shit right now.”

  As head of Global Client Relations at Mackenzie Hale, I’ve already proven I can kick ass as good as any of the men in this firm, but it never seems enough. No matter how hard I work, or how many hours I put in, I still feel like I’m chasing this unattainable place in the eyes of upper management.

  I throw the paper towel in the trash and lean on the sink, looking in the mirror.

  Who are you kidding, Jordan? What you mean is that you’re never going to get “his approval.”

  The door to one of the bathroom stalls swings open and Carolyn Howard walks out and toward the sink. I can tell she’s wishing that she held her pee for another ten minutes, at least. Trying not to make eye contact with me, she dries her hands and walks out of the ladies' room as fast as she can.

  I straighten my posture, take a deep breath, and smile.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Walking back to my office, I can see Carolyn and Heather Mitchell whispering. They notice that I’m walking toward them, so they quickly turn back to their computer monitors and try to look busy.

  Monica, my assistant and the person responsible for the spilled coffee, looks terrified. She follows me into my office, apologizing, and asks me if I want another coffee.

  “No. Thank you. I don’t need another coffee. It’s fine. It was an accident. These things happen.”

  Monica stands frozen, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Convinced she was going to be fired for spilling coffee on her boss’s skirt, Monica was already packing up her desk.

  “I’m off to my meeting. Cancel my afternoon meeting with the Richardsons. I’m not sure what my schedule will be for the rest of the day, but I need the afternoon open.”

  Monica goes back to her desk to cancel my meeting and breathes a sigh of relief.

  Trying to appear confident and in charge, I gather my files and walk to the conference room, leaving Monica, Heather, and Carolyn talking about the close call that was the “coffee spill incident.”

  I’ve got a reputation, and it isn’t a good one. At least not in the eyes of my subordinates. I’ve got a killer instinct and I use it every day. I’ve learned from my father to be tough. I don’t have a choice. They’ll gobble you up and spit you out and not think about you ever again. Who’s “they,” you ask? Keep reading.

  As I walk into the conference room, I am joined by six of the most powerful men in the financial industry. Mackenzie Hale has a stellar reputation. With offices in Boston, London, Amsterdam, San Francisco, Sydney, Singapore, and Tokyo, Mackenzie Hale has a reputation for working with institutions and families to meet their financial needs, but the truth is our firm advises the filthy rich so they can get filthier and richer. They’ve been doing it for over forty years, and my father, Andrew Mackenzie, along with his partner Benjamin Hale, has been at the helm for all of those forty years.

  Our Boston office is in the Rowes Wharf section of the city, and our conference room, designed with only the most elaborate and expensive furnishings, overlooks the boats and yachts of many of our clients. That’s what money can do. It can buy integrity and convince anyone that we give a shit about them. Well, actually, I guess we do, as long as giving a shit means making you, and therefore us, tons of money.

  Case in point? My father, who is about to act as if he cares about
me.

  “How are you doing, Jordan?”

  “I’m fine, Father. Thank you.”

  “Your mother and I would like to have you over for dinner one of these nights. We don’t get to see you in a social setting often. We’d like to see you... your mother would like to see you now and then.”

  I nod, not wanting him to contact his executive assistant to put me on his calendar.

  “So are you prepared for this?”

  I feel like I’ve been called into the principal’s office to explain why I haven’t done my homework.

  “Yes. I’m ready.”

  I move to stand at the head of the table and look around at each of the men sitting there. Their eyes on me for the next thirty minutes, I keep their attention and what seems to be their approval. When I’ve finished my presentation, there is a moment of silence before my father speaks.

  “Great job, Jordan.”

  My father looks at the others and asks if anyone has questions. No one does, and so that’s it. We’re done. Hours and hours of preparation and no one has anything to say. Not a single comment.

  Trying to be polite, my father smiles and thanks me.

  “Well, I guess we’re done here. Thank you, Jordan. We’ll talk again later.”

  I’m being dismissed. I’ve put on my show and now I’m being asked to leave, like a child being sent off to bed so the grown-ups can talk.

  I gather my papers and head back to my office. Remembering that I’ve cleared my schedule for the afternoon, I grab my bag and stop at Monica’s desk.

  “I’m not sure what time or if I’ll be back today. You can reach me via my cell if there is anything urgent.”